


2010

by RhinoHill



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: #vss365, Anger, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fear, Prompt Fic, QuarantineFic, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 06:31:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19193608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhinoHill/pseuds/RhinoHill
Summary: Why did Jack just leave in 2010? (S4E16)Because he couldn't watch herfolding herselfsmaller and smalleruntil all that was leftwas Mrs Him





	1. Mrs Him

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one is the original tweet ficlet written for the June 12 #vss365 prompt #ruse
> 
> But writing this, I'm caught in a country that stares daggers at me, just because I'm me.  
> An angry, disposessed land.
> 
> Chapter two may not arrive until I feel safe.  
> But when it does, it will be Jack's revenge.
> 
> Be safe, AO3 unicorns.  
> And kiss the ones you love.  
> Because there's just one sharp bend in the road  
> between dreams  
> and nightmares.
> 
> \--oOo--

The end arrived on slippered feet,  
A clever ruse of soft smiles and of roses.

We fought.  
You called me cynical and bitter.

But can’t you see?  
I had to leave,

Because I couldn’t watch you  
Folding yourself smaller and smaller,  
Until all that was left of you  
Was Mrs Him.


	2. Hold back the dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jack. Please. Please don’t be angry. If I’d known I never would have gone along with their plans. Please, believe me?”
> 
> The frustration bubbling in his chest boiled over. “You think I’m angry about the Aschen?” He pinned her with his eyes and watched her shrink away from him. Christ almighty. He spun away, unable to watch. “I’m not angry that you made the wrong call ten years ago, Carter.” He paced the room. “I’m not even angry that you picked him over me.”
> 
> A missing scene from 2010 - the night before SG-1 undo it all. Because not all stories end prettily, but all stories need an ending.
> 
> \--oOo--

_Sam_

Wrap me in midnight  
Hold back the dawn  
Shower me in starlight  
Hold back the dawn  
Read my body with your hands  
Hold back the dawn  
Let my tongue remember happiness  
Hold back the dawn

  
Say my name without anger  
Like you used to

Please  
Hold back the dawn

—oOo—

Jack sighed and tossed another log on the fire. It wasn’t a particularly cold night, but he wanted the comfort. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d die tomorrow. Nine years ago, he’d lost the habit of feeling that. It was one of the many things he didn’t miss at all. In fact, the team he’d be working with tomorrow were just about the only thing he did miss. Particularly the member of the team he wouldn’t be working with.

A hesitant knock at the door interrupted his angry head-shake. With a frown, he checked his watch. Midnight. Zero dark. Running an unsettled left hand through his hair, his right opened the dresser drawer in his hallway and pulled out his revolver, hiding it behind his right thigh as he opened the door.

It was her.

“Hi.” Her voice was as uncertain as her knock, and it made his rage boil up again. Ten years ago she would never have been so feeble. She’d made herself less than she was to fit with Joe. Over and over, until she became what she pretended to be. He couldn’t bear what she’d become. With tight lips, he stepped back and held the door open.

“Thank you.” Her voice thrummed low as she stepped past him. At least she still smelled the same. Lemon and vanilla, with a hint of dusky lavender. He closed his eyes and breathed her in.

She stopped in front of the fire, rubbing her hands across her folded arms,over the pale blue cardigan that lifted the blue in her eyes. At least she wasn’t wearing that drab, olive-gray that the Aschen loved so much. Jack put the revolver back in the drawer and walked towards her at the speed of a mourner.

Her eyes, once the strongest eyes he knew, begged silently for help. He hated that look of helplessness.

“What?” he bit out, fists balling in his pockets.

“I…” she swallowed nervously. “I came to ask if I could help tomorrow. I could create a diversion for you.” Another swallow. “To give you a better chance of getting through.”

“And does hubby approve of your idea?” His mouth twisted in a bitter smile.

“Jack. Please. Please don’t be angry. If I’d known I never would have gone along with their plans. Please, believe me?”

The frustration bubbling in his chest boiled over. “You think I’m angry about the Aschen?” He pinned her with his eyes and watched her shrink away from him. Christ almighty. He spun away, unable to watch. “I’m not angry that you made the wrong call ten years ago, Carter.” He paced the room. “I’m not even angry that you picked him over me.”

Her gasp made him turn back. Tears welled in her eyes.

“You want to know why I’m angry?” He had to fight to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m angry because of how small you made yourself to fit with him. You were the strongest, fiercest, smartest person I knew. And you snuffed out your own light so that he wouldn’t feel threatened. And for what? To be a golden retriever? A sweet, good looking, clever, obedient, ambassador’s wife?”

“Not even that anymore.” She was looking at the floor and he had to strain to hear her. “I left him. I. I couldn’t look at him, knowing he knew about their plans.” A deflated laugh escaped her as she sat down on the floor and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her ankles. “I’m not even anybody’s dog anymore.” Her head dropped onto her knees. Her shoulders heaved. Jack watched her from across the room, feeling every brick in the wall he’d built around his heart tumble in a pile at his feet.

“But no-one else knows that yet.” A tear-streaked face looked up at him, flickering in the firelight. Scared. But with a tight spark of determination in her eyes. “I’ll be able to distract the guards for at least a few seconds. Please. Let me do this for you.”

His feet carried him to her side. He sat down next to her and opened his arms.  
“C’mere,” he whispered.

  
The dawn woke them before his alarm did. Sometime after midnight, they’d lain down on the couch, watching the fire die in each other’s arms. The evening was too short for words and their emotions too raw for anything other than closeness.

But soon they’d have to move. It was three hours to the solar flare.

“Where’s a black hole to slow time when you need one?” Her voice was thick from midnight’s tears.

“Hey, you’re the one who blows up suns. Don’t look at me.”

She huffed a tiny laugh. “I love you,” she spoke into his chest.

He pressed his lips to her short, blonde hair. “I love you too.”

 

At the front door, she put a hand on his arm. “Wait. I want to add something to your note.”

Wordlessly, he took the folded sheet of yellow paper out of the breast pocket of his shirt and handed her a pen from the dresser.

His eyes wandered over her body as she wrote. If he could live the last ten years over, he knew of one change he would make. He would stay and fight for her.

“Thank you.” She licked her lips uncertainly as she handed back the folded note, then stretched up and placed her lips on his. “I’ll see you there.”

And then she was gone.

 

—oOo—

 

With ten seconds until action, Jack looked around. There she was, innocently chatting to one of the guards in unrestricted space, but close enough to the escalator to run down it and distract at least one of the three at the bottom. She caught his eye for a second. For the first time, he wondered what she’d written on his note. Nonchalantly, he took the yellow paper from his pocket.

“ _Sam_ ,” Her writing was small and neat, as familiar as his own. She’d written the note to herself.  
“ _Stop hiding. Be with him. Nothing the air force can to do you is as bad as a lifetime without him. Trust me. I know_.”

Jack’s heartbeat slowed as he placed the note back in his pocket and readied the first arrow.

They’d make it.

They had to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one, Sam, was written for the June 13 #vss365 prompt #midnight.
> 
> This story, like this week, is angry and messy. But sometimes life is.
> 
> The sun will come out tomorrow.
> 
> Thank you for reading.  
> x0


	3. A message from the future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wiping a hand across his mouth, he closed his eyes and saw her next to him in the gate room again, reading what she’d written. The tic in her left cheek, the way her jaw shifted forward under tightly closed lips, as always when she fought back sadness. The way she left the room without looking at him.
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a thank you to @AgentKalGibbs.
> 
> Your comments about my work over the past few days pulled me out of my writer's funk and made me want to create again. 
> 
> You have no idea how much that means.
> 
> xo
> 
> \--oOo--

Jack sighed and tossed another log on the fire. It wasn’t a particularly cold night, but he wanted the comfort. He couldn’t shake the hard, crumpled, waxy feel of the note in his hands. The blood was his, Fraiser had said. The writing was his too.

And hers.

But her words?

Wiping a hand across his mouth, he closed his eyes and saw her next to him in the gate room again, reading what she’d written. The tic in her left cheek, the way her jaw shifted forward under tightly closed lips, as always when she fought back sadness. The way she left the room without looking at him.

“ _Sam_ ,” Her writing was small and neat, as familiar as his own. She’d written the note to herself. “ _Stop hiding. Be with him. Nothing the air force can to do you is as bad as a lifetime without him. Trust me. I know_.”

His mind, his heart, every part of him that mattered at all anymore, had left the room with her. He wanted so badly for the words to be about him. But all afternoon, she had avoided his eyes, his attempts to talk to her. Hell, she’d even left the base before 4pm. 

His hand crept up to cover his eyes. She could only have gone to see the person she was writing about.   
FUCK.  
He had to get over her. HAD to. They worked together. He was responsible for her safety. He couldn’t let his feelings for her keep clouding his vision. And now she had sent a message to him from the _fucking future_ to say she wanted someone else. 

She was the strongest, fiercest, smartest person he knew. He loved her with every heartbeat, loved every line of her face, every expression, every edge. But he had to let her go. She wanted someone else. What had ever led him to believe he stood a chance with her anyway?

A hesitant knock at the door interrupted his angry head-shake. With a frown, he checked his watch. Midnight. Zero dark. Running an unsettled left hand through his hair, his right opened the dresser drawer in his hallway and pulled out his revolver, hiding it behind his right thigh as he opened the door.

It was her.


	4. It's only ever been you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ve worked so hard for SG-1. We both have.” She shook her head bitterly at the floor, wringing her fingers around her arms in a grip that would leave bruises. “I was willing to wait. What we do matters. But that note. Janet knows. General Hammond knows. They’ll never allow the team to stay together, because of a stupid, weak comment I made who knows how many years from now. Because they suspected how I feel, and now they know.” Her voice was rising as she lost control of her wound-in anger. “No-one hurt me. I’m the one who hurt you. You deserve to be pointing the gun at me.”
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter. For now. 
> 
> Because all of you S/J unicorns deserve a happy ending after helping me through my dark times.
> 
> Thank you for being you.
> 
> \--oOo--

She’d come on her bike. The helmet dangled from her hand, as uncertain as the rest of her posture, as hesitant as her knock.

Desire and anger clashed behind his breastbone, boiling into his clenched fists.

Then he saw her tears.

His arms snapped up, steadying his revolver as he stepped around her to the edge of her porch and swept the darkness.

“Stay behind me.” He whispered with his back to her. “Get inside.”

Step by step he walked backwards, following the sound of her feet until he crossed the threshold. He locked the door in front of him before turning to her and lowering the gun. “Is he here?” His voice was hoarse with suppressed rage. “Did he follow you here?” He swallowed hard around the words he knew he had to say. “Carter, did he hurt you?”

All the fight had gone from her eyes. She was small, unsure, and beaten.

“What?” She kept her eyes on his gun as she croaked the word.

_Fuck._

It took all his self-control to put down the revolver. Moving slowly, he wrapped his hand around the chinpiece of her helmet and tugged it free. 

“Come, I have a fire going.” His arm barely touched her shoulders as he led her to his sitting room. 

She let herself be led to the fireplace and stood unmoving, staring into the flames. He had to leave. He couldn’t be in here with her. Not like this.

Swinging away, he paced back into the hallway, dropped her helmet on the table and peered outside through the window. His fist clenched and unclenched around the gun’s trigger. Outside, the night was velvet black and still, a mocking counterpoint to his liquid rage. He released a small puff of breath and stalked into the kitchen. At a safe distance from her, he slammed his fists on the kitchen counter. He would fucking kill the man who had done this to her. He didn’t give a damn about the consequences. With shaking hands, he pulled two beers out of the fridge and popped the caps. For a moment, he paused, looking at the revolver on the counter. Then, with a grunt of frustration, he picked it up and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans.

It took effort to slow his heart and ease the tight set of his jaw before he walked back to comfort her.

She hadn’t moved. She took the beer with a small smile at his hands. He walked to the couch, sat down, and slowly she followed him. She sank down and folded forward, elbows on her knees, picking listlessly at the label on her bottle.

His heart thudded a crescendo of fury. He almost trembled with it. He couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Wanna talk about it?” he nudged his knee against hers to hide the tightrope of anger in his voice.

She didn’t open her mouth, simply turned her face to him. Her blue eyes begged for mercy.

His throat clenched shut. The only way to stop him breaking something was to hold her. Bouncing up to standing, he pulled her beer out of her hand, then wrapped it in his own, tugging her up and cradling her close to him, folding her body in his arms, pressing his helpless face into the soft skin of her neck beneath her short blonde curls. Breath by breath, breathing her in, he regained control.

“Carter.” He finally had enough strength to whisper into her hair. “If you don’t want to talk about what happened, that’s okay. Just tell me who did this to you. I swear to god, he will never hurt you again.”

She pulled out of his arms, guarded.

“What do you mean?”

“The -” ineffectually, he waved a hand that was beginning to clench again. “The man you spoke about on the note. You went to see him, I assume. And…” He trailed off. _And he made you cry. And I will fucking kill him for that_!  He reached back for the reassuring weight of his revolver.

She shook her head in disbelief.

“It was you.” She bit her bottom lip and looked at her hands. “It’s only ever been you.”

A quenching rain washed through his body and lifted his heart into the air.

“Sam?” He took a step closer.

But she held her hands out in front of her. “And I ruined everything. From the future. I ruined everything! How could I do that?”  
She backed away again, cocooning herself tightly in her arms. Her mouth was a hard, thin line.

“Carter, what are you talking about?” She loved him. He was soaring. He wanted to brush her lips back into their full softness and kiss her, drink her in, shelter every part of her, but she held him at bay.

“You’ve worked so hard for SG-1. We both have.” She shook her head bitterly at the floor, wringing her fingers around her arms in a grip that would leave bruises. “I was willing to wait. What we do matters. But that note. Janet knows. General Hammond knows. They’ll never allow the team to stay together, because of a stupid, weak comment I made who knows how many years from now. Because they suspected how I feel, and now they know.” Her voice was rising as she lost control of her wound-in anger. “No-one hurt me. I’m the one who hurt you. You deserve to be pointing the gun at me.”

“Sam! No.” He stepped forward again, but she backed away, back towards his front door, shaking her head.

“What’s worse is that I agree with her. With future me. Whatever that means. I don’t want the team to stay together if it means living my future without you. I don’t know who I am anymore. The SGC was my number one priority until this morning. I ruined evertthing for you, and Daniel, and Teal’c. And all I can think about is not wanting to be alone. How can I be so selfish? How can you stand to be around someone so selfish?”

In two steps, he closed the distance between them. He lifted her off the ground with the power of his embrace.

“Sam.” He was trembling with the force of his emotions. “My Sam. I love you. You are everything I care about. Everything precious in my life is in my arms. Everything.” With shaking arms he lowered her back to the ground and cupped her face. “Everything.” His lips found hers, small and tight and disbelieving. “Everything,” he whispered against her mouth, feathering his fingers through her hair. “You are everything to me.”

Slowly as the whispered light of dawn, her arms released their deathgrip on her body and folded around his back.

—oOo—

Daylight woke him. Sometime after midnight, they’d lain down on the couch, watching the fire die in each other’s arms. The evening was too short for words and their emotions too raw for anything other than closeness. But now a weekend stretched in front of them. In front of him and the woman he loved, who loved him too. Even if she couldn’t forgive herself for it.

A thought bubbled through his chest, filling him with the first rays of hope. It may just work. Weaving his fingers through her hair, he brushed his lips over her eyelids, shivering with happiness as her eyelids fluttered against his skin.

“Mornin, sleepy head.” He pressed his lips to her forehead before standing up. “C’mon. Coffee. And then I have a proposal for you.”

He waited for her to take a sip from the steaming mug before speaking again. The hesitation in her eyes tore at him. This _had_ to work.

“Have you got your driving license with you?” he asked, feigning nonchalance.

With a small frown, she pulled a slender billfold out of her jeans pocket and tugged her license free, holding it uncertainly in her hand.

“Good, here’s mine.” He opened his wallet and slid his license across the table, leaving his fingertips against hers. For courage. For luck. Because he couldn’t ever let her go again.

“So here’s the deal.” His fingers brushed the top of her hand, steadying his heartbeat. “You’re uncertain about the purchase of a second hand colonel. Sure. He has some fight left in him yet. But he’s undeniably a vintage model. With all the quirks that brings. He’ll need regular maintenance from a steady hand. And someone who doesn’t mind the way he handles round the bends. It would be unreasonable to expect an intelligent professional such as yourself to take that on without a test drive.”

He swallowed, and risked a glance at her face. She was smiling like the sunrise.

“So, major. If you accept, you’ve got the weekend for a test drive. No decision required before Monday morning. Enjoy your colonel. Just be gentle with him around the sharp corners. His knees aren’t what they used to be.”

The laughter that bubbled from her made him want to float away. But there was one more thing he needed her to see.

“So, if you accept, just pop your license in my wallet, and we can start the test-drive with breakfast.” He handed her his wallet. And watched her face as she flipped it open.

Inside, two photos stared up at her. One of Charlie. One of her.

Her shoulders rose with her gasp of surprise. Blue eyes locked onto his tender smile.

“It’s only ever been you, Sam,” he whispered. “It’s only ever been you.”

 

 

 


	5. The point of a test drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Carter, go.” He hoped his joke could hide the ache behind his words. “The point of a test drive is to see if you enjoy the car, not to lock you in it and throw away the key. I’ll be here all weekend. There’re some trees in the garden need dealin’ with.”
> 
> She nodded slowly, with a small tight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
> 
> \--oOo--

She scooted her coffee mug over to her left hand so that the fingers of her right could stay twined into the gaps between his on the counter. In silence, with eyes clouded dark blue and a shy smile, she sipped the hot, dark liquid. 

Jack echoed her movements, wary to say more and burst the moment that hovered like a soap bubble in the morning air between them. He wanted to vault across the counter separating them, crush her lips to his, mould his body to the shape of her. But this was her decision to make. And despite the smile, sadness lingered in her face.

When she set her empty mug down, he risked it.

“So, breakfast? I make mean banana pancakes.”

“Banana pancakes?” For a moment, delight slipped over her features. But then a shadow chased it back into hiding. She bit her bottom lip and pulled her fingers out of his grasp, looking at her watch. 

The second her fingers left his, a hole opened in his chest. He wrapped his still-warm mug in both hands to ward off the desire to cup her face and kiss her doubts away. And waited.

“I usually have breakfast with Cassie and Janet on Saturdays,” she spoke softly to her watch.

She didn’t have to voice the reason for her concern. Janet was her closest female friend in the SGC, and the one who’s spent the most time staring at a note on which they’d both written, on which Sam had spilt love and he had spilt blood.

“She’s a special little girl,” Sam continued, hesitation giving a rough edge to her voice. “We draw after breakfast. She comes up with something new every weekend.” She shook her head fondly at unseen memories.

“How’s her dog?” Jack felt the loss of eye contact even more keenly than the loss of her touch. When she looked back up at him, he released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

“Spot? He’s her best friend. Finds his way into every drawing, even if the rest of the characters are monsters or aliens.”

“She called him Spot? He doesn’t have any, does he?”

Beneath the doubt, a spark of happiness lit in her eyes. “I think she inherited your sense of humour, sir.”

The word slipped out so easily, but she crumpled around it, hunching forward, folding her arms around her waist. Loving her was as natural as breathing. Loving him was clearly far more complicated. The hole in his chest filled with ice and sank to the pit of his stomach.

“Carter, go.” He hoped his joke could hide the ache behind his words. “The point of a test drive is to see if you enjoy the car, not to lock you in it and throw away the key. I’ll be here all weekend. There’re some trees in the garden need dealin’ with.”

She nodded slowly, with a small tight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He stayed a step behind her on the way to the front door, opened it while she picked up her crash helmet. Wordlessly, he stepped onto the porch ahead of her. With every step she took away from him, a cloud skidded in front of his sun. He felt as if he were fading into mist without her.

“Sam.”

She stopped halfway down the steps, a question on her face as she turned back to him.

He took a breath to steady himself. “You know you don’t have to come back if you don’t want to.”

Her eyes softened, her own doubts erased by tenderness. Slowly, she closed the distance between them, never letting go of him with her eyes. She pressed her body into his, stretched onto her toes and feathered her lips softly against his. 

“I’ll see you later,” she whispered against his cheek before she turned and walked away.


	6. Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The churning knot in her stomach was entirely new. But then… but then, so was the small, pale flame of hope that spread warmth around her heart.
> 
> His eyes turned her to liquid chaos. “Please,” her hands reached out to find him. “Please.”
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, unicorns. It's the weekend. And the tags for this piece have just kicked up to Definitely Mature.
> 
> *Licks lips*
> 
> Enjoy...
> 
> \--oOo--

Sam sighed as the hot water from her shower hit the tight muscles in her shoulders. The knots there were as familiar to her as the curves of her body. 

The churning knot in her stomach was entirely new. But then… but then, so was the small, pale flame of hope that spread warmth around her heart. 

All through breakfast with Cassie, the tiny flame had reminded her of her body pressed against his, her lips on his mouth. She thought she would be better at hiding it from a child, but when she had presented Cassie with her drawing - another in the series of sunrises on other planets, full of orange, pink and gold against strange and unfamiliar trees - she had gasped at what the nine-year-old offered her in return. It was undeniably her, about twenty years older. Her hair draped silver over her shoulders and her face was a mass of laugher lines, as if she spent most of her time grinning. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards into a gentle smile that spoke of hope.

“Cass, this is fantastic!” Her goddaughter undeniably had talent, and she had seen her drawings gain in nuance and perspective. But she had never captured emotion like this.

Cassie had shrugged, unaffected by the praise. “I’m just drawing what you look like today with a few more wrinkles and gray hair. Like you-from-the-future who sent the note. Mom told me.” She had glanced over her shoulder to where Janet watched them from the kitchen. “Do you think you’ll be happy in the future? Do you think future-you will have a family?”

Sam had flushed as she tried to escape Janet’s eyes silently boring into her. “I have a family already.” She'd mussed the little girl’s curls. “I have you, remember?”

“No, your own family. Someone you can come home to every day. Like mom comes home to me.”

Another sigh escaped into the steam rising around her as she shook herself free of the memory. Next door, on her bed, a weekend bag was packed, with four sets of satin and lace underwear that she never thought she’d take out of the tissue paper they had come in. A small, close-fitting, black dress with matching slingback sandals. Jeans and a t-shirt and a jersey for stargazing at night. Her running clothes, just in case. And a midnight blue silk nightdress that made the knot in her stomach dance at the thought of his hands running over it, feeling the ridges of her ribs, the rise of her hips, the soft, wet heat of her sex. Her fingers traced her curves as she had imagined him doing a thousand times. With a soft moan, she arched into her hand, her throbbing nub sending shocks through her with every stroke. She imagined him on the floor of the shower, kneeling in front of her, pushing her legs apart, his lips closing over it while she stood above him, licking, sucking, nipping…

Her climax shuddered through her. But today it brought no release, only a hot, tight need for him that burned between her thighs. This was indescribably dangerous. But he’d offered her a weekend. And she wouldn’t, she couldn’t, wait any longer.

 

As she shut her car door in his driveway and shouldered her overnight bag, she heard the sound of an axe on wood from the back yard. Her feet carried her around the house, past the spot where she and the team had shared so many barbecues. Around the corner of the house to where the giant weeping willow draped its leaves gracefully in the stream that ran through the bottom of his garden. When she saw him, her heart leapt into her throat and the flame around it flared searing hot. He was glistening with the effort of reducing tree stumps to firewood, muscles cording and slipping under shining skin in the midday sun. A faded yellow shirt lay in a crumpled heap next to him and his jeans sat low and loose around his hips, their waistband stained dark with moisture.

With a thud, her overnight bag hit the ground. He looked up and a grin of relief split his face. Her walk across the lawn turned into a run and then she was back where she needed to be, pressed against his skin, feeling his arms around her. Her mouth found his lips, pushed them apart, tasted his salty, dusky sweetness. Her tongue traced the ridges behind his top teeth, stroked his tongue. She moaned as he leaned into her and nipped and sucked her bottom lip.

Her fingers walked across his shoulders, down the slick muscles curving along his back.

“Wait,” he tried to pull away. “I’m covered in sweat and dirt.”

She traced a droplet of sweat with her tongue as it trailed down his neck to the hard swell of muscle in his chest. She reached down to the hem of her summer dress and lifted it over her head. It landed next to his shirt, pale blue against yellow. Sky against sun. The fire around her heart flared and caught the hard, tight need for him in her belly. With a force that shook her, wet, searing head rose through her. His eyes traced up and down her body, his throat working, his lips open.

“So make me dirty,” she whispered as she reached behind her to unclip her bra.

“Christ, Sam.” With one hand, he pulled her back against him, sealing his mouth to hers. His palm scraped up her spine, down to the curve of her butt.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her hips pushed into him, feeling the heat of his erection straining against the rough fabric of his jeans. With fumbling fingers, she undid the button, heard the soft pops of the zipper opening, reached down and took him in her hand. He moaned into her mouth, the sound triggering every nerve in her skin. Her hips bucked hard, rising up, trying to force him closer. She slid her hands around under his boxers and pushed them down his butt. Her leg folded around his waist, crushing her against him, his tip against the silky, soaking fabric of her panties.

His head lifted to look at her, lust and wonder flushing his features. Slowly, painfully slowly, his fingers reached under the elastic lace of the scrap of fabric keeping him from her.

“Please,” the moan escaped her. “Please, I need you.”

His lips parted. He twitched hard against her entrance. His arms lifted her off the ground. “Hold on,” he commanded as he cradled her against him and walked to the willow tree. The second her spine connected with the cool, solid bark, he tore her panties down, making wetness gush through her. He pushed out of his clothes. And stopped. His gaze travelled from her parted lips, across her breasts, down the tight curves of her belly to her open legs and her gleaming sex.

His eyes turned her to liquid chaos. “Please,” her hands reached out to find him. “Please.”

And suddenly, finally, he was inside her, thrusting hard. His arms behind her back, his hands in her hair, he filled her again and again, every thrust bringing her more of what she needed. More of him. With every second, she crashed further and further into him until all that remained of the world were his arms around her, the rough bark biting at her skin and him inside her, filling her, bringing the waves of fire to a burning peak that tore from her in an animal cry of release as he growled and came inside her.


	7. Soft rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wanted nothing other than follow his lead, to let him touch every part of her, heal every part of her with his care as warm as soft summer rain.
> 
> “Stay.” His voice was barely a whisper before his lips touched her shoulder. Her eyes fell closed. She heard him moving behind her, cabinet doors opening and closing, the snap of plastic catches. Then his lips were back on her right shoulder, his left hand curling around her hip, holding her steady.
> 
> \--oOo--

His legs shifted under her weight. With a breathy sigh of bliss, her eyes fluttered open. Dark green willow leaves waved languid contentment at the sky. The skin over her spine burnt a delicious echo of the fire that had exploded and still pulsed sweetness through her. Slowly, she tilted her head down to capture his lips. His weight shifted again, and with a small moan of regret, she loosened her legs around his hips and lowered her feet to the floor, sucking in a small breath as her raw skin slid against the bark.

Immediately, he pulled out of their kiss, concern etched in his face. His arms wrapped protectively around her back. His eyes squeezed shut as his fingers touched her spine and came away slick and red.

“Shit, Carter. I’m sorry.”

_Sorry? How could he be sorry? Did he not know that finally, finally, her world was whole?_

She caught his chin between her fingers. His eyes on her were wary.

She licked her lips, tasting him again, flushing with the memory of him fucking her. “Don’t you dare apologise for any single part of that,” she breathed.

God, he was magnificent. She pressed her body closer to him, relishing the strength coiled in his muscles. Her teeth grazed the stubble on the edge of his jaw. Her mouth slipped lower, her tongue tracing the curve of his neck. Against her belly, she felt his erection rising.

“Fuck me, Sam.” His voice trembled with wonder.

Laughter bubbled up her spine. She nipped softly at his skin, thrilling with heat as he shuddered against her. “Yes, sir.”

His whole body jerked against her at her words, his helpless moan setting off a fresh avalanche of desire. But, as she tightened her arms around his shoulders and rose up on her toes to kiss him, he held her back.

“Uh uh, we need to deal with your back. I’m not leaving it like that.” At the disappointment on her face, he burst out laughing. A warm palm cupped her breast. He bent down and rolled an aching nipple under his tongue. She could feel him smiling against her skin. “I’ll make up for it. I promise. Come.” His fingers weaved through hers and tugged her, blinking, back into the sunlight. He scooped up his shirt and handed it to her. “Here, this will be loose enough not to hurt.”

The shirt was soft and sun-warm. It folded around her like a cloud. She looked around to find him in his boxers, arms filled with clothes and shoes. He snagged her overnight bag with two fingers and disappeared around the side of the house, where the sliding door to the barbecue area stood open. Everything felt magical as she walked behind him. The springy grass under her feet, the sun on her bare arms, the scent of him surrounding her. In a dream, she followed him up the stairs that led to his bedroom, then into his en-suite bathroom.

He flicked on the shower, then turned back to her and gently lifted the shirt over her head. His closeness, his care, entranced her. Following the slightest pressure from his hand on her shoulder, she turned so he could see her back. She wanted nothing other than follow his lead, to let him touch every part of her, heal every part of her with his care as warm as soft summer rain.

“Stay.” His voice was barely a whisper before his lips touched her shoulder. Her eyes fell closed. She heard him moving behind her, cabinet doors opening and closing, the snap of plastic catches. Then his lips were back on her right shoulder, his left hand curling around her hip, holding her steady.

“This is going to sting a little,” he spoke against her skin, raising goosebumps. “But only for a minute or two.”

She flinched as the cold metal tip of tweezers dug into raw flesh, shuddered as a sliver of bark pulled free. His fingers tightened on her hip. “Only two more.” She nodded and squared her shoulders, surrendering to his hands.

At the clink of metal touching glass, her shoulders slumped forward in relief. He turned her around and held her against him, stroking her hair. His head found the crook of her neck and pressed in close until the pain eased and her breathing slowed.

Eventually, he pulled away again. “Come.” His words held regret. “We need to wash this clean. I’ll be gentle.” His fingers locked around her wrist and pulled her into the shower. Tenderly, he turned her and placed her hands, one by one, against the wall. “Lean forward for me.”

Her forehead touched the tiles between her palms. His legs pressed, warm and sure, against hers, steadying her as her eyes drifted shut again. She felt him reach up and unhook the shower head, and then water cascaded down her back, filtered through his fingers so that it dripped, slow and soft, over the gashes on her spine. Again and again, the soft water rained onto her back until the tiles between her feet no longer ran red with the stain of her blood. A bottle cap opened, and soap, silky under his palms, floated over her skin, stinging her spine, soothing and tingling every other inch of her skin. His hands slipped around her waist and up to cup her breasts, to slide over them and tease her nipples with their heat. With a sigh, she pressed her haunches closer to him. His hands slipped down, tracing the rise and fall of her ribs, the tautness of her belly, the curve of her hips, the soft rise and warmth between her legs. Strong, sure fingers slid over her nub, shooting heat through her. Behind her, a knee pressed her legs further apart as he took her pulsing nub between his fingers, then slipped them further down, cupping her sex in his palm, dipping fingertips inside her.

With a moan, she reared back, needing to be closer, needing more of him inside her. His left arm circled her waist, holding her against his chest. His lips rained kisses against her shoulders as his fingers pressed deeper inside her, finding all her secrets, what made her arch and rise, what made her shudder and pulse against him, what made her climb up to the sky and explode with release.

For the second time, he held her as her breathing slowed from ragged gasps. Softly, his fingers released her and followed the hot water as it cascaded once more over her. He held her hip as he reached out to snag a towel. His arms wrapped her in dryness. He knelt down in front of her to towel her legs, pressing kisses onto her big toes as she lifted her feet obediently under pressure from his hands.

He stood up and pulled her into the bedroom. Folding back the covers, he sat down and smiled up at her, love and care and joy dancing in his eyes.

He opened his arms, and she melted into him and released everything else in the world.


	8. Where dreams live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She rose up on one elbow and smiled. “Sorry. I don’t normally fall asleep on a test drive.” She licked her lips. “I hope I didn’t crash the car into a tree or anything.”
> 
> The rumbled laughter in his chest twisted into so many other emotions, he had to look away to find control.
> 
> She lay her palm against his cheek, turned him back to face her. “What is it?”
> 
> He wanted so desperately to show her. But how could he talk about his dreams when she needed to find the path to her own?
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unicorns, this is a very personal chapter. 
> 
> Because I've been asked several times to move countries for my career. And no matter how much you want to believe your lover when they tell you they want what you want, in the end, we all have to find the path to our own dreams.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this. And I hope you find the path to your own dreams.
> 
> xo
> 
> \--oOo--

She slept in his arms. And while she slept, he opened the door to the most dangerous place in his soul. The place where dreams live. While she slept in his arms, he dreamed.

Of hair bleached silver by age, faces folded into laughter lines by happiness. And of still holding her while she slept in his arms. As if it were mundane. As if it could be taken for granted.

Of evenings amongst friends, where the smell of barbecue smoke wafted around them and she wrapped her arm lazily around his waist as she handed him a beer, and he stole a quick kiss mid-sentence. As if loving him was easy. As if loving her wasn’t something he had to hide.

Of afternoons under the willow tree, teaching their toddler to fold paper boats, telling them about another afternoon, when the willow leaves waved contentment at the sky and he’d kissed their mom for the first time in its shade.

Oh, the sex was great. God, it was great. She was strong and demanding and rough and playful and achingly gentle. But his dreams were always of the quiet, peaceful moments. Those were the ones he craved.

She stirred against him in her sleep, moaned an indistinct word and stretched her arm across his chest, nuzzling her face closer to his neck. Okay, he conceded. Sex with a body this perfect was worth dreaming about too.

He weaved his fingers through her hair, a golden halo of soft curls against his skin.

“Hmmm.” Her eyes fluttered open and she lifted her head in the first confused seconds of waking. Her eyes focused on his face. “Hmmmm.” With a contented, sleepy smile, she shifted her body closer to his, draping one leg over his so that the heat between her thighs just touched his leg. His entire body tingled in response. Christ, the things she could do to him with just a touch.

A slow hand reached out for his. She rose up on one elbow and smiled. “Sorry. I don’t normally fall asleep on a test drive.” She licked her lips. “I hope I didn’t crash the car into a tree or anything.”

The rumbled laughter in his chest twisted into so many other emotions, he had to look away to find control.

She lay her palm against his cheek, turned him back to face her. “What is it?”

He wanted so desperately to show her. But how could he talk about his dreams when she needed to find the path to her own?

He shook his head under her hand. “I love you,” he said simply.

“That’s all?” she leaned up on both elbows, her eyes boring into his.

His jaw twitched. “C’mon. Let’s get a dressing on your back and light a fire before it gets too cold.” 

Blue eyes called out his lie with their stare. Then she rolled over and padded to the bathroom and his waiting medical kit without question.

Dressing wounds was soothingly familiar, even if he longed to kiss every soft peak of her spine as his hands worked. The truth was, that was also familiar. He had just never been able to act on it. Her eyes followed his movement in the mirror - unselfconscious, as if they had been waking up together for a lifetime. 

When he set down the scissors and adhesive tape, she turned. Her fingers ran a soft path through his hair. “Want to talk about it?”

There was so much he wanted to say. But he couldn’t. This decision had to be hers, and hers alone. He closed his eyes and pulled her into him. “You’re cold,” he said accusingly. “Warm first. Talk later. Come.” He led her back into the bedroom and rooted in a cupboard, pulling out a faded flannel shirt, worn soft over years. He draped it over her shoulders and grinned as her hands flapped inside sleeves that were hopelessly too long. “Perfect fit,” he winked.

He had to escape. Before his humour ran out and he poured his dreams into her arms. Abruptly, he turned, taking the stairs two at a time, to go fight with a fire in the hearth.

The flames were beginning to lick at the hardwood when she walked silently into the room, holding an open beer and a steaming mug of tea. Long, bare legs peeked out from under his shirt. She had rolled up the sleeves and done up three buttons, just enough to reveal the swell of her breasts above and a glimpse of pale blue satin below. She stopped in front of him, took a sip of his beer, reached up and wrapped her arm around the back of his head and pulled him into her. Soft lips sealed over his and her tongue, shimmering with tart, cold bubbles, teased against his.

“Mkay, rest is yours.” She pulled back with a smile and handed him the beer, walking to the couch and sinking down on it, cradling her mug in both hands.

He stared, willing his mind to etch every detail of her into his memory. Even if this night was all he had, it was beautiful. It would be enough.

She moved, breaking the spell. Her left arm stretched out towards him, beckoning him onto the couch next to her. Setting down her mug, she wrapped his knee in a tea-warmed hand. “Now are your ready to talk?”

He had no way out anymore. “About what?”

“Jack.” Fuck. His name in her mouth sounded like a prayer. All he wanted was to hear her saying it again. Forever. “About what you want. This is your career, too. Your team, too. What do you want?”

“What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Bullshit.” She straightened up, hard-edged under the soft curls. Her eyes flashed fire. “Don’t you dare. I LOVE you. And you said you love me too. Love doesn’t back away like that. YOU don’t back away like that.”

“Carter, that’s not what I mean.” God, he wished he had Daniel’s way with words. He set down his beer and opened his arms. “Come here. Please.”

With an exasperated sigh, she folded against his chest. He stroked her hair, drawing courage from her closeness, staring into the flames as he spoke.

“I don’t mean that this isn’t important to me, Sam. I mean that this has to be your decision. Only yours. My decision has to be separate to yours.” He sighed. “Because I know this isn’t the last difficult decision you’ll have to make. Ten years from now, when I do something so idiotic that you wish I could sleep on a couch in a different galaxy, or when someone your age, with perfect knees and seven PhDs asks you to marry them, or when you get asked to move to a different galaxy to command an off-world base; in that moment, when you have to make that decision, you have to know that this decision was the right one for you. That you made it for no-one else. Not even for me. Else every important decision in your future will be coloured by what-ifs and regret. And I love you too much for that.”

A small puff of air tickled his neck, and her hand wormed under his t-shirt until her palm lay flat against his heart. His beer warmed, and her tea cooled, as tears soaked onto his chest. He had no explanation for it, but somehow, he felt as if the tears were the price she had to pay for moving into her future. So he watched the flames and breathed her in and hoped that she was healing.

“Okay, one question, though,” her voice, still thick with tears, but calm, broke into his thoughts. “And I won’t tell you how it affects my decision. So that means you have to answer.” She pushed up so that she could see his eyes. “Would you, one day, um. How would you feel about. Kids?”

Charlie. The only other picture in his wallet.

He released a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. “Only if you fix it so they inherit your brain. And your looks.”

She rolled her eyes, and a smile tugged on the corners of her mouth. “Fine,” she mock-sighed. “But then they have to have your courage and your loyalty. And.” She sucked her bottom lip under her top teeth. “And, I’d only want them to discover this, STRICTLY, only after they turn eighteen. But they’d make the world a better place if they inherited your ability to do that thing you do, with your, uh, fingers, that makes me… um.” She flushed crimson.

Happiness enveloped him in yellow petals. “What on earth do you mean, Carter? This?” His fingertips tickled the spot just under her ribs that made her squeak and jerk.

“No!” she squirmed.

“Maybe this?” he lifted her shirt seductively, slid his hand slowly along the satin panties that made him crumble with desire, and over her belly button. Slowly, he bent down and blew a noisy raspberry.

“Nnnoooo!” Her squeal and the slaps around his ears made him rise up on his elbows, a triumphant grin on his face.

Her fingers tangled into his hair. Love shone in her eyes. “And I want them to have your ability to look at someone, just look at them, and make them feel as if they are the only person in the world.”


	9. Never let me go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I just need one more vanilla Sunday with you   
> When we've got nothing to do   
> but watch the day go by   
> So tell me,   
> did you want one more vanilla Sunday with me?   
> Then we can call it history   
> If that's what you really want”  
> \- Vanilla Sundae by Emily Burns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @ConnieN
> 
> \--oOo--

Filtered sunlight washed across the bed, lifting her from sleep. Sunday morning. In his arms. Sam closed her eyes again and savoured the world with all her other senses. The puff of his breath tickling the nape of her neck. The dusky smell of him. The solid warmth of his arm draped over her waist, of his body curled against hers, fitting her shape so perfectly. The gentle tingle of remembered pain along her spine, the delicious stiffness in her thighs that resulted from. Well. Unaccustomed exercise. She hadn’t… A small puff of breath escaped her with the realisation. She hadn’t had sex since she’s met him. Somehow, no-one ever had enough appeal to entice her away from her work since the day she’d faced him across the room for the first time. And when they went back to work tomorrow, she either tore their team apart or faced a future without ever feeling any of this again. 

 _Fuck._  

His arm tightened around her waist, hugging her closer to his chest. “I can hear you thinking from here, Carter,” he murmured. 

_How could be read her so well?_

Soft lips, sleep-warm and drowsy, traced the line of her shoulder, and behind her, he edged closer. Close enough for the heat of his erection to tease her skin. Wet desire rushed through her, making her moan and press against him, to feel him again, to imagine him sliding inside her.

_How could he affect her so completely?_

His hand drew lazy circles on her belly, creeping slowly outwards to cup a breast and feather fingertips across a puckering nipple, to drag along the flushing, tingling folds that pleaded for him to push through them to touch her pulsing sex. She whimpered and bucked against him, desperate for more. With a low chuckle, he shifted over her, pinning her between his arms.

“God, you turn me on,” he growled. 

Her whole body rose up to meet him, electrified by his lingering gaze. His right hand traced the outline of her mouth.. She craved his touch on every part of her. She nipped his fingers, closed her lips around them, tasted him on her tongue, her body writhing to get him closer. His fingers pushed deeper into her mouth at the same moment as his hand touched her wet, slick heat and slid inside her. A cry tore free as she clenched around him, willing him deeper with her hips, losing control as his fingers in her mouth echoed his slow thrusts inside her. 

He stilled, drawing her into his silence. His eyes bored holes into her heart. Loving. Wanting. Sad. 

“I need you, Sam.” He looked defeated. He curled his fingers into her hair and dropped his forehead onto hers. “I need you.”

Tears burned in her throat. She wrapped him in her arms and pulled his body into her, feeling the tremor in his muscles as he fought for control. “My love.” Her mouth formed words against his ear. “My love.”  With a hint of pressure on his shoulder, she guided him onto his back and lay against him. Their kiss held the tenderness of a hundred Sunday mornings spent apart. Slowly rising up, she took his length inside her. Desire coiled, hot and tight, inside her, but wrapped around desire was the depth of her need for him. For him in her life. Her hands cupped his face as she moved slowly above him, dancing love in the tilt of her hips, in her kiss, in her eyes, until he crushed her in his arms and they shuddered into release.

He pressed a kiss to her temple and shuffled out from under her. The bathroom door closed behind him and left her feeling lost and hollow.

The man who emerged minutes later was not the man who had lost himself in her arms. He was smiling, but his eyes were guarded. As if he regretted what he had given. A stone clenched in her stomach.

“I need a run. Ya coming, Carter?” He twisted away before the pain in her eyes could reach him.

“Sure.” Her voice was flat. She was sure he could hear her anger, her confusion. But he didn’t react. Biting her lip to force her emotions down, she hopped out of bed, grabbed her overnight bag, and dressed in the bathroom. Like a stranger. Bitterness twisted around her heart, but she shoved it down and brushed on a smile.

When she stepped out, her mask was as firmly plastered on as his. But the speed with which she ran betrayed her anger. Her legs burned. Her chest ached. Her arms pumped as she pushed her body to stay ahead of him. Infuriatingly, he kept pace. For the entire ten-mile run, he paced one small step behind her right shoulder. 

As her muscles tired, her anger slowly burnt away, replaced by a memory of the night before. He didn’t want to let her know what he would choose, because he wanted her to find her own path. And this morning, he’d told her. He was angry with himself for letting her see that he needed her.

She stumbled over the realisation and came to a halt. He was three paces ahead by the time he pulled up, hands on his hips, frowning. “Giving up?” he joked.

Her eyes travelled over his body, his easy smile, his shuttered eyes, Every inch the colonel she had fallen in love with. Hiding the man she loved, to protect her.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Catch me if you can, sir.”

And she was off, chasing her dreams back to his home, outrunning her fear with every step.

He reached the front steps to the house two strides ahead of her, but as he turned with a triumphant smile, she dashed past him towards the back yard.

“Hey!” he shouted as he set off after her. The pile of wood and his discarded axe beckoned when he wrapped his arms around her from behind and lifted her off the ground. “For the record, the race finished at the front door!” 

Laughter started, but died on her lips as he gently lowered her feet to the ground. Her arms were trapped against her body, cocooned in his embrace. Her spine tracked the movement of his breathing, the beating of his heart. And she knew that nothing else mattered.

“Jack.” Her voice was a whisper. “Jack, I need you too. Please don’t ever let me go.”

A vibration shook his chest. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. And silently, holding her, he wept.

 

 


	10. Zero, on a court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When you come home I feel the earth start to change
> 
> I am alive, I am alive, I am in love with this place
> 
> I love it most how you whisper my name
> 
> And so I catch it in a bottle for my lonelier days
> 
> Our moment slows inside the palm of your hand
> 
> Oh I could stay like this forever or as long as we can
> 
> And in the morning I pour a warm cup of tea
> 
> And hope you'll stay a little longer, stay a lifetime with me.”
> 
> \- “When you come home” Mree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A moment of joy. For @ConnieN
> 
> —oOo—

He held her in the cocoon of his arms, folded against her body, her back echoing the outline of his chest. She was slender as the boughs of the willow that trailed in the water, but she was the only thing holding him upright. Her words had reached into the darkness locked inside him since Charlie left, and opened hope. _Please, don’t ever let me go._  

 

His head fell forward until his face rested in the crook of her neck, and he wept. At the shock of waking up vulnerable and new, at the searing beauty of sun on his skin and love in his arms.

It was minutes before he could find his voice. He swallowed hard, leaned his lips against her sweat-damp hair. “Sorry.”

 

She twisted inside his cocoon. Blue eyes glistened with tears as she looked up at him. With a smile as soft as morning dew, she shook her head and wrapped her arms around his back, burying her face in his shoulder.

She was the one who pulled out of their embrace and laced her fingers through his. “Let’s go inside,” she gave a self-conscious smile. “Crying in the sun gives me a headache.”

 

His house was different when they stepped through the sliding door. It felt like home. As if the dust-covers of emptiness had lifted. He wanted to fill the lounge with yellow flowers for her, to empty out the lonely corners and fill them with her light.

 

At the entrance to the kitchen, she turned to him. The palm of her free hand rested over his wildly beating heart, slowing the moment. She reached up and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.

“You go grab a shower. I’ll make coffee.”

 

He knew what she was asking. She needed time. For four years, they had tiptoed around their hearts. This much openness felt raw.

 

In the bathroom, engulfed in waves of steam, he rubbed his hands across his face. _Please, don’t ever let me go._  His whole body tingled in reaction to the memory. She had chosen him. He huffed a quiet laugh to himself. It was a fucking good thing he’d asked Teal’c to hold on to his grandmother’s engagement ring in the aftermath of the armband incident, when he thought he’d lost her forever on the other side of a gu’aould force field. When he had chosen her - chosen to die with her rather than to live a half-life without her. He remembered how hard it had been not to rush over to her house that night with the ring and promises of forever. That had nothing on this euphoria, this need to prove how much he loved her by laying his life at her feet.

 

But, of course, she was right. Carter was always right. They needed time. And they had it. They had all the time in the world. Slowly, he showered and shaved, taking care over every part of his body. She would touch it later. It was her body now.

 

By the time he emerged, her coffee was finished, and so was the cryptic crossword in the morning paper. And the Sudoku.

 

“We’re gonna have to get two papers so I at least stand a chance at getting one clue,” he grumbled.

 

Her smile lit the room. Lightly, she hopped off the chair at the breakfast bar, dropping her empty mug in the sink before she stopped in front of him. Again, her palm rested over his chest and slowed his beating heart. Again, her lips feathered against his.

“I left you one,” she winked as she slipped out of his arms towards the bedroom. 

 

With a frown over his steaming mug, he pulled the paper closer. 8 across was left blank. His eyes found the clue. _Zero, on a court. (4)_

Joy danced up his spine. After a scalding gulp, he slammed his mug down on the counter and grabbed the scissors from the drawer. He needed to fill the house with flowers, to somehow silently shout his happiness. At the door, he spun on his heel and dashed back to the paper. L O V E, he filled into the open squares. 

 


	11. Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last potato released it’s skin and sat, naked and glistening, in her palm. Her thumb pressed into it until the flesh gave and crumbled around  her fingers. Slowly, taking care to catch each chunk before it fell, she broke it into the salad bowl. Gently broken in her hands, the soft flesh soaked up more of the dressing, contrasted better with the clean lines and sharp tang of the finely chopped dill pickles that laced the salad with their unexpected sharpness, like a nip of teeth in the middle of the softest kiss.
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @Loverustal, who asked for a little more insight into their love life.
> 
> You made me think. And you made Sam think of him...
> 
> More to come this weekend. But I hope you like this appetiser xo
> 
> \--oOo--

*Sam*

She slipped the boiled potato lightly between her fingers, feeling the delicate brown skin loosening and sliding off the still warm flesh. She didn’t cook often when she was alone, so the rare moments when she did were precious, an almost sensual ritual of turning base materials into something better than themselves.

A smile surprised her as she dropped the now-naked potato, shook her fingers to rid them of the tendrils of its shredded jacket, and picked up the next one. Maybe, now that she was no longer alone, she would be cooking more. 

Despite the fear about Daniel and Teal’c’s reaction when they spoke to them tonight, being here, cooking in his kitchen, felt so right. She was glad he had agreed with her when she asked if they could invite their teammates for a barbecue and come clean. He’d seemed proud, even, to talk about it. She hoped she could draw on his strength when she had to admit that her feelings for their C.O. were more important to her than anything the Air Force could do to her.

Those words again, identical to the ones written hastily on a scrap of paper and flung at them from the future. She believed them now. She finally believed them.

The last potato released it’s skin and sat, creamy and glistening, in her palm. Her thumb pressed into it until the flesh gave and crumbled around  her fingers. Slowly, taking care to catch each chunk before it fell, she broke it into the salad bowl. Gently broken in her hands, the soft flesh soaked up more of the dressing, contrasted better with the clean lines and sharp tang of the finely chopped dill pickles that laced the salad with their unexpected sharpness, like a nip of teeth in the middle of the softest kiss.

“Carter?” his voice from the kitchen door behind her startled her in her thoughts.

“Sir?”

Fuck. She had said it without thinking, so caught up in the soft pleasure of creamy flesh crumbling in her hands. And he had stilled completely. She’d forgotten, and she’d called him by a name she didn’t know if she had the right to use anymore. And now he was silent in the doorway. Fuck. She was too scared to turn around. Too scared to see the anger on his face. Because it had to be anger. That could be the only thing filling the room with this throbbing tension.

Slow, measured footsteps approached her. A small tremor started in her hands as they hung above the salad bowl, creamy chunks of potato dropping from them with almost audible sighs.

He stopped close enough behind her for his heat to radiate against her back. Strong hands appeared in her field of vision, pulsing liquid need through her. She craved those fingers on her, crumbling her flesh under them. But he said nothing. She swallowed. What had she done?

His hands flexed on the counter, each finger curling, holding her breath captive with their slow, considered movement. Again, he stilled. Blood and danger sang in her ears.

He moved with the speed of a predator, his hands grabbing her hips and pulling her back, off balance, so tight against him that his hard erection spread her open. She stumbled forward, trying to gain her equilibrium, but his arm encircled her ribs, holding her helpless. He had shifted into someone other than the gentle man she’d kissed only minutes before while he lit the fire outside. Raw power rolled around them. It terrified her. It took her breath away.

Stubble scratched her neck as his mouth folded closer.

“What did you just call me, major?” he growled.


	12. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had to fight so hard for respect and power every day, she had to be so dignified in the face of petty assholes who doubted her every decision because she was young, and beautiful, and female. Giving up control is frightening for anyone. How much more so for her. 
> 
> Admitting that you like to hand over control is seen by the world as being cowardly, wanton. How much more so for a woman who is expected to do it, then belittled for it.
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A while ago, @Loverustal asked me for an insight into Sam and Jack's sex lives - "maybe some BDSM".
> 
> We all think they go there, right? And who doesn't want to read it?! Control is Sexy. Power is HOT.
> 
> But BDSM gets a bad reputation, especially in the age of #MeToo.
> 
> And while it took several months for me to get the words right, I am so grateful to have been asked, and to have the chance to share this with you. Because there is nothing more powerful than the giving of control. There is nothing more caring than dancing with someone else's consent in your hands.
> 
> Unicorns, this is personal. I hope it hits home, no matter how you make love.  
> If it means something to you, I'm grateful.
> 
> \--oOo--

*Jack*

_Sir._

She had thrown the word at him so easily. The title she had used thousands of times. But not here, not standing in the kitchen he had filled with flowers and she had filled with light. Not after he knew how she tasted.

 _Sir_ ,  she had said, and then she had frozen, as if she knew what it had done to him.  
As if she wanted the same.

It was too soon. But he found his feet carrying him to her.

He pressed into her. She trembled against him, Her head bowed, her lips parted. Apart from that, she remained frozen. 

God, he needed her. He needed every part of her, in every way, craved her intelligence, her anger and her passion. But this - her body soft and pliant against him, waiting for him to lead - this consumed him. His fingers flexed, aching to grab her, pin her under him, own her completely.   
But it could break her.

Hands and mind fought for control, his fingers curling and uncurling.  
Almost imperceptibly, she moved closer.

Lightning fast, he claimed her hips, crushing her to him. She stumbled, and his arms encircled her. The wall around his desire crashed into dust. He had to know if she needed this, too. He needed to know _today_.

She trembled against him, but she didn’t move, waiting for his cue. He leaned his head close enough to taste the scent of her.

“What did you just call me, major?” He stepped onto the dancefloor. No backing down now. God, he hoped she would understand. Paralysed with the danger of his game, he watched her features.

A vein fluttered in her throat. Her eyes drifted closed.   
“Sir,” she whispered.

Power arced up his spine.The game was on. He was leading the dance.

“Turn around.” He didn’t need to raise his voice above a whisper for her to obey. The feeling of her hips brushing his jeans as she swiveled in his arms sent a throb of pleasure through him. He traced the balls of his thumbs along the curve of her jaw, lifted her chin, brushed them along her parted lips. They opened further, but without a sign from him, she made no move to respond. God, the electricity thrumming between them was going to make him explode if he didn’t have her right now.

But here were rules to this dance.

Pulling his thumbs out of her mouth with a groan, he weaved his fingers through her hair, looking down, forcing calm back into his ragged breathing. He took a small step back, connected to her only with the silk of her hair tangled in his hands, and the current that bound him to her.

“Say no.” His voice was hoarse with desire.

Her eyes flashed open, confusion creasing between them, pinning him with blue.

His tongue darted across dry lips. His fingers tightened on her hair, tugging her head back. Forcing her to read his face.

“Say it, major.”

“No.” A flush as gentle as her whisper crept up her neck.

His hands were shaking. He pulled them away, balling them in fists in front of him, glaring down at them. If he fucked this up, he would break her as well as him.

“I need you to listen to me, Sam. The next time you say that word, I stop.”

He forced his eyes back to hers, caught between confusion and desire. His fists unclenched, finding the flutter in her throat, feathering against it, desperate to feel her, too terrified to touch more of her and lose control

“I want to push you. I want to own you. But you say no, this stops. Tell me you understand.”

The tension obliterated everything except her silent body, her heart fluttering under his fingertips. She swallowed. And, slowly, she nodded.

With anybody else, it would have been enough. But she was his light. He had to be sure.

“Please, Carter. I need to hear you say the words.” He sounded pathetic, pleading. He didn’t care. “Please.”

Deep blue bored into his soul. Under his skin, the pulse in her throat hardened to a gallop. The flush on her cheeks turned crimson. 

“Yes, sir.”

Relief, power, naked need, lifted him in their triple rush. Curling his hands under the fabric of her t-shirt, he pulled her into him, parting her lips with his tongue, tasting her sweetness as she unfroze and melted into his kiss, deeper and deeper.   
His. Entrusted to him. His.

The moment her arms moved, he yanked her shirt up, pinning them inside the fabric. She gasped, and he thrummed with control. The dance had begun.

“Those potato covered hands? I don’t think so, major.”

Her face flushed again, guilt colouring her throat, her chest, the swell of her rapidly rising and falling breasts. With a smirk, he eased the fabric higher, until it covered her face; binding her, blinding her. She stretched her arms above her head, waiting patiently for him to slip the shirt off, but he stepped away from her, thrilling at the tension that tightened her creamy flesh.

Exaggerating every movement so that the metal of the buckle clicked loud and cold, he pulled off his belt, toed off his shoes, pulled off his socks, watching her breaths deepen as she stood, sightless, listening. Stepping close enough to feel her heat, he reached his arms around her and unclasped her bra, shuddering with pleasure when a surprised gasp tore free. Loosened, but held in place by her raised arms, the lacy black material slipped to reveal a puckered nipple. He ached to hold her firm breasts in his hands, to roll her nipples under his tongue, but there was time for that yet. The dance began slowly. 

She shifted her feet, and stifled a moan as the bra shifted again, sliding the other nipple free. 

His erection throbbed painfully, but he was soaring on her arousal. A chuckle broke free. “Oh, major, I could watch you moaning like that all day. Maybe I will.”

He walked away with loud footsteps, stopping only when he heard her whimper.

In a heartbeat, he was back against her, her slender waist in his arms, his erection pressing into her. “But I want you too fucking much,” he breathed as he eased her shirt over her head and off one arm, twisting it snugly around the wrist of the other, running his lips down the length of the bound arm while he twisted it behind her, captured the other wrist and bound them loosely together. 

He grinned with the absurd beauty of it. A flick of her wrist, and she could be free, but she let him hold her with barely the symbol of restraint.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed as he sank down in front of her, guiding her legs against his shoulder so that she could balance against him as he slipped off her shoes, then reached up to unzip her jeans and slide them down her legs, relishing the goosebumps his fingers raised on her skin as they passed. He trailed his hands back up her legs, slowing deliberately as he neared the thin slip of black satin that covered her. Shifting until he was crouched directly between her legs, he looked up at her, her eyes stormy and her lips parted, and cupped her in his hands.

She moaned as his fingers pushed against the fabric at her entrance and moved her legs further apart, leaning into him. 

“You’re soaking, major,” he purred, thrilling as she flushed, his fingers pushing the fabric deeper, stretching it taut. “Do you get wet when I strip you naked and bind you up?”

“Yes, sir.” 

She shuddered and closed her eyes as she whispered, and a cold hand clutched at his heart. Asking her to say it had been too much. She was losing her composure. This knife-edge dance was dangerous, it bared your soul, and sometimes it was exactly what you needed. But today he wanted her to scream with pleasure, only with pleasure.

He pressed a soft kiss into the dip of her belly, rose up and cupped her face in his hands.

“Well, I’ll tell you a secret.” He filled his kiss with tenderness, drawing her lips between his, teasing her with his tongue until she pressed against him, her exposed nipples setting fire to his skin through his shirt. Despite his control, his own face flushed when he pulled away, drawing a shy smile that rekindled the fire in his chest.

“What?” her mouth soundlessly formed the word.

He yanked his shirt over his head, looking for the extra second of control the movement granted. This was a dangerous, knife-edge dance. And it was exposing his soul.

“I’m the opposite.” He swallowed. “I’m terrified of taking my clothes off in front of you.”

The twinkle lit her eye before her lips quivered and she bit down, still not quite managing to control the giggle that shook through her.

He stepped in close, grabbing her hands and pulling them tighter behind her, arching her body back. She melted so perfectly into his control, but still mirth sparkled in her face.

“Somethin’ you want to tell me, major?” he growled, his nose almost touching hers.

“Feel the fear and do it anyway, sir.”

“Fucking smartass!” He had to swing away to stop himself from guffawing, from falling at her feet and begging her to let him worship her. But he was dancing now. He’d started this dance. He wanted to finish it, buried inside her, hearing her scream his name as she came.

He stepped in behind her, clamping her nipples between finger and thumb, drawing a surprised cry. Without easing the pressure of his fingers, he pushed into her, forcing her forward until her thighs connected with the kitchen table. He closed his teeth over the soft skin at the corner of her shoulder and her neck, aching with need at her hurried breaths. 

“Do you know what I do to a smartass, major?” With a final tweak, he released her nipples, sliding his hands down her breasts in silent comfort as her pained gasps quietened.

“I don't know, sir.”

“I fuck it until it screams my name. Bend over. Spread your legs.”

The tension washed back into the room. Watching her, sharp, shallow breathing, her body bent over for him, her arms bound on the small of her back, he stripped down and pressed himself into her. The dance was hurtling to a close. He needed her. God, he needed her.

Moving fast, no time left for teasing, he untied her hands and guided them up to the  edges of the table.

“Hold on,” he commanded.

Black satin and lace were an infuriating barrier. With a growl, both hands found her warmth inside them, clamping her throbbing nub between his index fingers while the rest of his hands protected her from the cutting edges of her panties. Firm, hard strokes made her buck against him, losing rhythm as her breaths turned into pants, turned into words.

“Please,” she was whispering, her knuckles white against the table’s edge, “Please, please, please.”

“Please what, major?” He thrust against her entrance through the fabric, feeling it give, hearing it tear.

“Please, sir. Fuck me. Please. Please, fuck me, sir.”

With an animal growl, he bent over, taking the scrap of black between his teeth, ripping it away and seating himself so deep inside her she cried out and bucked against him. Again, he slammed into her, deeper and harder.

Her scream tore his climax out of him as she clenched, and bucked, and rippled around him until he folded forward, cupping her tender, throbbing nub in one hand, lacing the fingers of his other hand into her fingers that now curled, loose and spent, over the edge of the table.

His sweat was cooling on his skin when her legs trembled under him. The urge to wrap himself around her, to protect her, was overwhelming. Cradling her in his arms, he carried her to the the nearest armchair in the lounge and sank down, pulling her head onto his chest, pressing his lips into her hair.

“You take my breath away in a new way every time, Carter,” he whispered.

She glanced up at him, her mouth pulled into a sad, uncertain smile, and looked down again.   
Her expression sucked all the air out of the room. His stomach dropped to the floor.

“Sam?” His voice sounded distant through the rising tide of dread. “Carter, you okay?”

Silence greeted his increasingly frantic heart.

“Sam, please. Please, talk to me. I’m sorry if that was too intense. I. I love you. It never has to happen again. I never meant- “

Blue eyes, brimming with tears, stole his words.   
She shook her head. “I loved it,” she whispered, her lips trembling.   
“Doesn’t -” she looked down again, and he felt a tear dropping onto his chest. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

He closed his eyes and rocked her closer. _Where’s the problem?_ The schoolboy in him wanted to shout. _I love it, you love it, why would that bother anyone?_  

But he got it. She had to fight so hard for respect and power every day, she had to be so dignified in the face of petty assholes who doubted her every decision because she was young, and beautiful, and female. Giving up control is frightening for anyone. How much more so for her.   
Admitting that you like to hand over control is seen by the world as being cowardly, wanton. How much more so for a woman who is expected to do it, then belittled for it.

This knife-edge dance he loved to dance would never end, he realised. Not now that he had found his reason for dancing.

“Does it bother me that the most beautiful woman I have ever seen allows me to use her body for my pleasure?” he whispered.  
“Does it bother me that you trust me enough to give me control?”  
“Does it bother me that the same fantasies which make me hard, make you wet?”

He lifted her head. He had to show her the honesty behind his words.  
“Sam, it only makes me love you more. And wonder how the fuck I got to be the lucky bastard who caught your eye. Cause I sure as fuck don’t deserve you.”

Her smile grew a little more real under her tear-streaked cheeks. He pushed on.

“I want to strip you naked, pin you against the wall and fuck you until you scream. I want to lay you down in front of the fire and kiss every inch of your skin while you tell me exactly what you like.” He ran his fingers through her hair, nestling her nearer. “One day, I hope you’ll want to take my body, strip me naked and use me for your pleasure. But how we make love, and what you call me, doesn’t matter. Sam. What matters is you.”

Her arms crept around his neck and, as afternoon folded into dusk, he held her.

“Jack?

“Hmmm?”

“When you came into the kitchen earlier? What did you want to ask me?”

Helpless laughter bubbled through him. “If you needed help with the salad. Turns out I’m even worse at cooking than I thought.”

Her giggle echoed his own giddy relief. When she sat up, peace had finally found her eyes. “I’d better get cleaned up and go finish it. Daniel and Teal’c will be here soon.”

“Uh, sorry about the underwear.” His face flushed, and he cursed himself for the honesty of the memory.

Her smile dimpled her cheeks. “It’s okay. I have more than one pair.”

As she moved to get up, he held her back. He wasn’t ready to lose her touch. “Damn. I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t.”

It was more honest than he’d planned, but these seemed to be the rules of their dance.   
He sighed. “Because the thought of cupping your perfect ass in those jeans, knowing there’s nothing under them…”

She slipped out of his grasp. In the doorway, she stopped and looked back.

She ran her tongue over her top lip and winked. “If that’s what you want, sir.”

 


	13. Team night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attack was the best defense, she decided. Spinning on her team, she propped dripping hands on her hips. “So are you going to put those in the fridge or not?”
> 
> Teal’c gently inclined his head. “It is alright, Major Carter. We have everything we require.”
> 
> Somehow, his polite rebuff upset her even more than Daniel’s insistent, expectant probing. They were here because she needed to throw their team into chaos. Because she loved one member more than life itself.
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started labelling these little moments of distraction #quarantinefic.
> 
> So I hope they bring you as much joy as they do to me.
> 
> Stay safe, unicorns.  
> xo
> 
> \--oOo--

*Sam”

She was crumbling Feta cheese over an, admittedly, enormous potato salad when footsteps sounded at the door.

“Hello?” Daniel’s voice, ever tentative, pushed into the house.

“In the kitchen!”

She flushed as the words died on her lips, realising how much she wished that could be the truth forever. Shaking her head to dislodge the thought, she turned a smile on the two members of her team who had become her brothers.

“Hi Daniel, Hey Teal’c.” Her hands waved feta crumbs apologetically in the air. “Sorry, I’m just finishing up here. You wanna put your drinks in the fridge?”

An amused frown creased Daniel’s eyes. 

“That’s quite a salad.”

“…Yeah. I. I didn’t notice how many potatoes I was boiling.”

Teal’c’s eyebrow arched, but as always, he kept a diplomatic distance, shouldering the giant coolbag while Daniel plunged back into the conversation.

“Good thing you made it here, then. Would have been a drag to bring that many boiled potatoes over from your house.”

The excuses spooled through her mind, even as she realised he would see through every one of them. Containing the anxious flutter in her chest, she shrugged, turning back to the salad to brush crumbles of cheese off her fingers.

“Yes, a good thing.”

Suddenly, an image of potato flesh giving under her fingers, of her body crumbling under his hands, turned her stomach to fire and her shoulders to ice.

“How was your weekend?” She did her best to hide the desire roiling in her gut behind her casual question.

“Um. Good.” 

She could feel Daniel’s eyes boring into her back. 

“And yours?” His tone was carefully neutral. Always a sign that he’d noticed something.

“Yeah, good,” she nodded, pretending not to hear the deeper question he was posing. “Breakfast with Janet and Cassie yesterday. Made a giant salad today.” _Told him that I love him. Made love to him over and over. He fucked me right where you are standing..._

She shook free of the memory before it impaled her. “How bout you?”

With a clatter of cutlery, she dumped the evidence of her cooking into the sink, rinsing hard while Daniel’s bemused tone rolled over her.

“Nothing as exciting as that.”

Attack was the best defense, she decided. Spinning on her team, she propped dripping hands on her hips. “So are you going to put those in the fridge or not?”

Teal’c gently inclined his head. “It is alright, Major Carter. We have everything we require.”

Somehow, his polite rebuff upset her even more than Daniel’s insistent, expectant probing. They were here because she needed to throw their team into chaos. Because she loved one member more than life itself.

Unsettled, blinking back the panic pricking in her throat, she smiled. 

“Okay. Well, the Colonel’s outside at the barbecue. I’ll just clean up here before I join you.”

She followed them with her eyes, then slowly, methodically, rinsed the utensils she had used and placed them in the dishwasher. Comfortable chatter wafted in through the open patio doors, and she bit her lip, stifling the wave of fear.

_You’re the one who suggested team night, Sam,_ she scolded herself as she reached into the fridge for one of his lagers, one of her pilsners, stacked next to each other where she wished they would always be. _You’re the one who wanted to come clean with Teal’c and Daniel._

She popped the top on the beers, cradled both in her right hand, and eased the fingers of her left over the pale blue lace and satin bow in the pocket of her jeans. A lace and satin bow that should have been nestled in the intimate space between her jeans and her skin.

_Clean with Teal’c and Daniel. Not so clean with him._

Squaring her shoulders, biting her lip, she padded out of his kitchen, through his lounge, and into the team night that stood to change her life.

 


	14. Show and Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reverently, he hooked his index finger through one of the loops. Her hand dropped, her eyes huge and worried as the scrap of folded blue unfurled. A triangle, a hint of lace so delicate, so see-through, that he could imagine tasting her right through it. And three broad satin ribbons, tied into a bow at the opposite end. One ribbon to hug each hip, and one to press between her thighs, covering her, moving against her, rising between her butt cheeks to join the innocent bow that would trail whispering touches along the skin that curved over her perfect ass. A hint of her scent rose from it, echoing the dark mark etched into the crease in the most intimate of the ribbons. She had worn it. And she had taken it off to place it in his hand.
> 
> He had seen her spread-eagled over his kitchen table. But he had never seen anything as arousing as three pale blue ribbons, made to touch her most sacred spaces, swaying from his finger.
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Your honor, I have an excuse for this ridiculous level of feelgood slush. Someone, somewhere, was having a bad day and needed it."
> 
> #QuarantineFic
> 
> \--oOo--

*Sam*

Her heart was a bomb ticking inside her chest, growing louder with every step that brought her closer to him. With an unsteady smile, she set her beer down on the porch table between Daniel and Teal’c  and turned towards him, lips pursed, walking a tightrope between her future and her fear.

“Another beer?”

The nerves leaping in her belly turned the statement into a question, but they stilled like waves in a hush of wind when he turned warm brown eyes on her.

“Thank you, Carter,” he murmured, twisting to place a half-full beer on the other side of the barbecue he was minding, before taking the one she offered.

That little act, his smile, the way he accepted the beer as if it was the key to a new Corvette, buoyed her up on a wave of euphoria.

Turning her back carefully to Daniel and Teal’c, she tugged the lace and satin panties out of her pocket with trembling fingers.

“And these belong to you, now, Sir.” 

She hoped he caught the gentle emphasis she placed on the word _now_. She needed him to know how much it had meant to her that he saw her dark desires, and understood. She wanted him to own her completely. She wanted him to know that every part of her belonged to his heart.

A frown creased his forehead as he reached out for the folded scrap of satin and lace, his lips parting as if he was about to disagree. 

Panic gripped her throat. He didn’t understand. She had to make him understand what she was offering.

Slowly, she licked her lips, moistening them for courage.

“I trust they’re where you want them?”

—oOo— 

*Jack*

She was wrong.

For the first time - literally for the first time since he had met her, she was wrong. He didn’t own anything that particular shade of pale blue. Least of all something so tiny. He didn’t own handkerchiefs at all.

Her tongue slid out between her lips, making them glisten, drawing his eyes helplessly to the sensual curve of her mouth as she spoke again.

“I trust they’re where you want them?”

A jolt of recognition stiffened his spine as his fingers touched the satin in her hand.   _Because the thought of cupping your perfect ass in those jeans, knowing there’s nothing under them…_ he had said to her as she slipped out of his grasp to shower and change. 

Reverently, he hooked his index finger through one of the loops. Her hand dropped, her eyes huge and worried as the scrap of folded blue unfurled. A triangle, a hint of lace so delicate, so see-through, that he could imagine tasting her right through it. And three broad satin ribbons, tied into a bow at the opposite end. One ribbon to hug each hip, and one to press between her thighs, covering her, moving against her, rising between her butt cheeks to join the innocent bow that would trail whispering touches along the skin that curved over her perfect ass. A hint of her scent rose from it, echoing the dark mark etched into the crease in the most intimate of the ribbons. She had worn it. And she had taken it off to place it in his hand.

He had seen her spread-eagled over his kitchen table. But he had never seen anything as arousing as three pale blue ribbons, made to touch her most sacred spaces, swaying from his finger.

His throat worked hard to silence the growl of possessive need that rose through him. Panting against desire, he felt for the edge of the barbecue by touch and set his beer down. 

Her eyes grew wider under his silence, darker. Doubt pulled a line across her perfect mouth. 

He had to erase her doubt, had to feel her moving against him. 

He didn’t have the words. No words that he could find could plumb the depth of his emotion.

Under his gaze, she shrank back further, fear clouding her eyes.

His mouth opened wider. Moving with care, he gathered the dangling satin ribbons in his palm and pushed them, deep and safe, into his pocket.

His arm flashed out, cradling her body to him. She arched back in shock, and he caught her head in his hand, his thumb trailing her flushed cheek, his fingers thrilling at the silk of her hair.

“Fuck, Sam, I love you,” he growled before he claimed her with his kiss.

“So, uh, I’m guessing this has something to do with what you wanted to talk to us about?” 

Daniel’s voice tore him out of the perfect moment of her body, her lips, her soft and giving tongue. Reluctantly, he slowed, releasing a  deep sigh as his mouth pressed against her lips one last time.

She tensed in his arms, and twisted to face the team. He let her move, but protective arms tucked her against him. Teal’c and Daniel were his brothers, but if they so much as questioned her choices, there would be blood.

The coolbox they had been inexplicably trailing to every team night for the past three years, much bigger than the three sodas and two light beers the boys always drank warranted, gaped open on the porch table. Daniel was holding a bottle of champagne triumphantly in his hand, French script curling beige and brown over the label.

“About bloody time.” Daniel’s smile stretched wide enough to lift the darkening sky. “I know this vintage stuff from France is supposed to last a hundred and fifty years, but I swear I was about to give up on the two of you ever coming to your senses.”

Teal’c’s forehead furrowed deeply under his embossed brand, even though he leaned into the coolbox and pulled out four iced champagne flutes while he spoke: “Daniel Jackson, I was unaware of them talking to us about anything as yet.”

In the early evening, a joy like he had not experienced since Charlie had hit his first home run, wrapped Jack in a bubble that tugged the corners of his mouth up into a goofy, elated grin.

“Yeah, well,” he mock-grumbled. “I’ve always been better at show and tell.”


	15. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teal’c set his empty glass carefully on the table and reached into the pocket of his trousers.
> 
> “Colonel O’Neill,” he questioned politely, “is this the correct moment to hand you the ring?” A small box of worn green velvet nestled in his outstretched palm.
> 
> \--oOo--

*Jack*

“Daniel, Teal’c, I wanted to - we wanted to talk to you about this.” 

He could feel her vibrating with tension as she spoke, making him fold his arms tighter around her and plant a soft kiss against her hair. He knew how guilty she felt about doing something that could affect their team dynamic. Understood it, even. Though he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but certainty when he felt the heat of her body against him.

She broke off to take a glass filled with deep golden liquid, trails of tiny bubbles floating lazily to the surface and, reluctantly, he unwrapped one arm to take a glass of his own. 

“Cheers!” Daniel called cheerfully as he and Teal’c stepped forward to clink glasses and take a sip.

The champagne was tart, the bubbles prickling the roof of his mouth in a way that made him long to lay her down, pour the rest over her body and lick the fizzing liquid off her skin. 

But she was tenser than ever in his arms.

“Guys, this … this has real implications for our team. Don’t you think we should, should talk before we celebrate?”

Daniel’s face softened into his smile. 

“Talk about what, Sam? It’s been clear how you feel about each other for years. We’re just happy you’re finally not denying it anymore.”

“But. It’s a direct violation of regulations,” she worried.

“Right. And we’ve never broke any of those before. Ever.” Daniel raised an eyebrow, a movement Teal’c echoed so precisely Jack had to stifle a guffaw.

“This is different to busting out of the SGC to go eat steak, Daniel!” Her shoulders heaved against Jack’s chest and he tightened his arm around her reflexively.

“Being in a relationship with a member of your team is prohibited, because it jeopardises the ability to make the right decision under pressure. You know that. I could be placing you both in danger. At risk of your lives.”

Jack’s heart bounced into his throat at the curl of dread in her final word. She really believed that loving him would endanger their lives.

But before he could reassure her, calm her fears with whispered jokes and feathered kisses, Daniel set his glass on the table, folded his arms and stepped forward, his lips an angry line.

“How was your judgement ten days ago when you recalibrated the gate controls, Sam?” A dangerous edge cut through the archaeologist’s voice. “Did you make mistakes?”

“Wh ... No, no, it worked as planned.” Her voice was uncertain.

“And three weeks ago, when you had to make the call to shoot the Goa’uld threatening us or to surrender your weapon. Was your judgement clouded? Did you just _accidentally_ choose the strategy that got us all out unscathed?”

“No, of course not.” 

He could feel her crumpling under her friend’s angry interrogation. Blood rushed faster through his veins. “Daniel,” he growled a warning.

“And the fact that you love him dawned on you, what, last night? Out of the blue? You were oblivious to it while you made all these other decisions about our lives?”

Her shouldders sagged. “No.” Her head dropped forward.

“Daniel! That’s enough! She gets it!” Jack didn’t remember ever feeling such rage at something Daniel had said. And, God knew, he could be infuriating.

The archaelologist lifted his hands, palms out, in a parody of surrender, but the tight line of his lips remained.

“I’m not sure either of you do, Jack.” Anger, dagger-sharp, dropped with each syllable Daniel spoke. “You’ve loved each other for years. You’ve been right here, living virtually down the road from each other, and you’ve used some bullshit excuse about regulations to deny it. Do you know how that makes us feel, when we’re galaxies away from the people we love?” He opened his right arm to indicate Teal’c, standing silently beside him.

The hair on the back of Jack’s neck rose with the chill that squeezed his spine.

“Oh God, Daniel,” Sam murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Daniel dropped his hands, his mouth finally curving into a sad smile again.

“Don’t be sorry. Be happy.” He turned away.

Sam’s fingers squeezed Jack’s hand as it curled protectively around her waist and gently pulled it away, stepping out of his arms. Silently, she walked up to Daniel, set her glass down on the table, and reached up to hug him tightly.

Taking another sip, Jack watched as Daniel lifted her off the floor and swung her from side to side in a bear hug. His fist unclenched and a sigh burst free.

She stepped away, turning to the mountain of a man that would always be a brother to him.  “Teal’c,” she said, wrapping him in her arms.

Suddenly, Daniel loomed in front of him, arms held wide. “I’m so happy for you, Jack,” he said softly as they hugged.

“Indeed, Major Carter, Colonel O’Neill,” Teal’c rumbled as she released him to return to Jack’s side. “Your happiness brings me true joy. May it bring you peace for many years to come.”

Her arm snaked around his waist, as if for reassurance. 

“Thank you, Teal’c.” Her voice shook, just as his would right now, in response to the strangely solemn words. Jack felt oddly as if it were not a comment, but a blessing.

As the last daylight disappeared and the fire crackled behind them, SG-1 sipped champagne in silence, beyond the need for talk.

After several minutes, Teal’c set his empty glass carefully on the table and reached into the pocket of his trousers.

“Colonel O’Neill,” he questioned politely, “is this the correct moment to hand you the ring?” A small box of worn green velvet nestled in his outstretched palm.

“Ah.” Jack thanked every Norse God he could name for the darkness hiding his teenage blush. “Actually, that normally happens at the wedding, T. But, while we’re here, I guess there’s no harm in me asking.”

His heart soaring, he turned to glance at her, taking in her wide eyes, her lips parted in surprise. He took the antique box that held his grandmother’s engagement ring from his friend and knelt down on one knee.

“Samantha Carter,” he smiled the hope she awoke in him up at her as the diamond in the ring glinted in the firelight, “would you put up with me for, well, a lot longer?”

She sank down in front of him, her eyes brimming with tears, mouth trembling. Slowly, she nodded, before her lips found his.

A combination of the need to hold her closer and the pain lancing through his knee eventually made him break away and pull her back to her feet and into his arms.

“So, are you guys planning a wedding?” Daniel’s voice broke his reverie.

“I don’t need anything more than this,” she spoke quietly. “Besides, we couldn’t, not without the Air Force finding out.” Her head shook against Jack’s chest, and in spite of her words, he felt a deep cut of sadness at not being able to give her the public declaration of love, the perfect day, that she so deserved.

As if she had read his mind, she spoke again. “Having the two of you with us tonight, knowing you are happy for us, is all I could ask for.”

“Actually,” Daniel pensively pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “there is a way to get married if you want to. I mean, it would only be recognised on Abydos, but if you’re okay with that, I am, I mean, I am a licensed Abydosian Marriage Officer.”

A laugh bubbled out of her, sending his heart on a wild gallop. 

“Lead on, Daniel,” he gruffed, his thumb feathering her cheek. “As long as I don’t have to let go of her at any point, you can marry us on every planet you like.”

“You don’t have to let go of her, Jack.”

He could hear the smile in Daniel’s voice.

“All you need is to say a few words. You see, on Abydos, the bride and groom write their own - uh - vows, so to speak. The ceremony itself basically involves them telling their loved one what they mean to them, and asking them to keep being that significant thing to them for the rest of their lives.”

The stars poured their light into his soul, lifting him higher with every breath, as if her warm presence in his arms was the only thing preventing him from floating away.

“Right, okay, I think I got one, “ he grinned. “Samantha Carter, please will you always keep saying completely incomprehensible things about reactors and wormholes, so that I can keep pretending to understand one tenth of it while really checking out your ass?”

A snort of laughter tore free from her. He pulled her closer, sliding his arms around her back.

“And, in return, I promise to always be the guy who grills meat for you. And to be genuinely confused by everything you say at work, but to agree with you anyway. And to be … okay, guys help me out here,” he cast around, thrilling at the way she snuggled closer to him as he spoke.

Daniel and Teal’c’s laughter wrapped them in companionship, but it was she who spoke, sliding her hands into the back pockets of his jeans and pushing her hips into him, making him grunt with desire.

“To always stay a mindblowing lover,” she murmured as her teeth grazed his earlobe.

Teal’c bellowed with laughter at the shocked expression on Jack’s face.

“You got the idea, Sam,” Daniel spoke between guffaws.

Her hands rose to cup his face, looking deep into his eyes for a second.

Suddenly serious, she twisted to face Daniel.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she said.

With a fond smile, he nodded. “So, you say: I promise to love you with my life. And I pray that you will alway be, as you are now … and then you say what he means to you.”

“Jack.” As she said his name, the evening around them hushed, the lazy sounds of the fire the only sensation outside of her soft voice.

“Jack O’Neill. I love you. I promise to keep loving you with my life. And I pray that you will always be, as you are now, the person who sees all of me, the darkness and the light, and who loves me anyway.”

Air rushed out of his lungs. Drawing it deliberately back in, he swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Samantha Carter.” His voice trembled, but he didn’t care. “I promise to love you with my life. And I pray that you will always be, as you are now, my sunrise.”

Daniel’s voice drifted over them, pronouncing benedictions, but all that mattered was her lips moving on his, her body pressed against him, and the knowledge that he would be able to hold her every night for the rest of his life.

His hands moved over the soft peaks of her vertebrae, curved along the small of her back and cupped her ass, making her shudder against him.

With a grin, he pulled out of their kiss, pulling her hips even closer to him.

“Mind blowing, huh?” he winked.

  
The End

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ConnieN, weeks ago, I thought up this happy ending for you and today, finally, was the right day to write it.
> 
> I hope you, and all the other S/J unicorns find a smile in it during these scary times.
> 
> #QuarantineFic  
> #HappyEndingsOnly


End file.
